


The Hunters Eight

by Webdog177



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-01 20:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13302294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webdog177/pseuds/Webdog177
Summary: When Ruby Rose, a wandering Huntress, stumbles into a town plagued by Grimm, it's up to her to gather the heroes needed to show them that people still care about the little guys. [Slight AU / a RWBY spin on 'Seven Samurai', with a dash of salt]





	The Hunters Eight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. *long, heavy sigh*
> 
> A/N: I had a dream that was very 'Seven Samurai', but instead of samurai, had random people like Chuck Norris, Luke Skywalker, Joan of Arc and Michael Jordan in it. It was legit, and I swear could be a thing. When I woke up I was like "Aww! That was awesome!" and was legitimately sad that the dream ended before I could finish it. But then that thing became this thing.
> 
> Enjoy.

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**The Hunters Eight**

**Chapter 1 (pilot episode): The Reaper… of Love!**

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Isolated villages in the middle of nowhere were unfortunate places for people to live. They were small, dirty and poor… and unfortunately, commonplace.

They reeked of poverty, desperation, hard work and the dirt, just like the inhabitants themselves – such as they were. Oftentimes having been around for decades, centuries in some cases, these old, dirty villages were places of history, memories and regret. There were nice towns, of course. But that was only the ones that had some sort of claim to fame; a rich dust deposit, or a famous inhabitant, or a picturesque area surrounding it.

But for the most part the everyday, small town was poor, dusty, and never attracted anyone save for the odd traveler passing through on their way to their real destination.

The villages were, in a word, pitiable.

At least, that was an apt description for the town, a single girl found herself thinking as she passed by a crumbling, decrepit building. It had probably been a house at one point – a single story, likely filled with a family, children, two parents, maybe a pet or two. But now it was a ruin, one wall missing and the rest as though they were nearly there themselves, with nothing but weeds surrounding the cobbled-together foundation.

As she walked from the outskirts towards what she could only assume was the center of the nameless town, she hummed sadly to herself. The buildings and homes, starting from the ruin barely able to call itself as such she first passed upon realizing that she was indeed entering a town, were all much the same – old, broken, barely usable as even the most basic shelter. It was depressing, and unfortunately, she also knew how common it was these days. There was simply little avoiding it, what with the Grimm roaming the lands freely.

Luckily, as though she were deciphering a particularly obscure piece of artwork in which the more she watched it the more she could see the inner beauty, she eventually passed a small stone wall, also old and broken, stones once piled high now crumbling and scattered everywhere but still a serviceable defense, and the town seemed to spring up from the dirt in the form of livable homes and buildings.

There were people milling around, both woman and men, performing what the girl assumed to be their duties for the village. Some carried stone, or wood from one place to another. Some clambered around the roofs of buildings, sliding wooden planks into place or shifting around straw, or more likely water reeds, she thought to herself, since the town was next to a good-sized water source, to mend their roofs. Some were working with tools, bustling here and there, doing whatever tasks that looked like they needed done.

After a few moments, the girl noticed with dawning realization, it occurred to her that most of the villagers she saw were actually working on repairs.

In taking another look around, she saw that most of the buildings behind the wall were also damaged in some way. They weren't as bad off as the ones outside the wall, but they still were clearly in need of fixing. And, from the looks of how the villagers scrambled around in their task of clearly putting their homes back together, to damage had been fairly recent.

Recent, and devastating.

And from the furtive, almost reproachful looks she was receiving from the busy populace as she walked by – no more than fifty people – it looked as though no one would be particularly forthcoming with any details.

Then again, it wasn't every day a random person – much less a lone girl – dressed in dirty brown leathers and miscellaneous traveling gear walked into town after a recent disaster. People from small villages were often very superstitious, and it was entirely possible that she would be met with some sort of anger and distrust just for being an unknown.

Or, just maybe, it might have been the high-powered sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. That kind of thing usually gathered odd looks, even at the best of times.

Sighing softly to herself, the girl passed by a particularly large group of villagers swarming around one of the buildings with tools and materials in hand, and made her way towards one of the large structures further in the town.

Realistically speaking, the town was not very large. Maybe only the size of a small community, or one of the tinier districts of a medium-sized city. From her initial assumption, if she wanted to, she could likely walk from one far end to the other in a matter of minutes, and still have time to take detours. Most villages never got much larger, whether it was because a larger population was more difficult to feed and care for, or simply because the environment couldn't supply a larger settlement.

Being so small and sparsely populated, that made it a simple task to locate the biggest house in the area; not quite a single story, but also not quite having two floors, it was made of wood – solid and sturdy – and clearly well-kept. It was, as she observed it upon getting closer to the place, possibly in such good shape because it was the best defended. The local town hall, or village leader's home as the case might have been, was often given priority in the case of disasters.

Or invasions.

And unless she missed her guess, from the look of the wary glances to outright stares of the townspeople, not to mention the nature of the damage to their homes and buildings surrounding her as she walked up to the establishment, that was exactly what had happened.

"Excuse me." She called out to a passing man who carried an armload of broken pieces of wood. He paused only slightly, peering at her and shifting the weight of his burden around to have a better grip. "Can you point me in the direction of your mayor?"

"Mayor?" The man repeated slowly, as though the word was unfamiliar to him. He seemed to think for a moment before shifting his load again. "There ain't nobody here like that here."

"Okay…" The girl tried again. "Then, how about a chief? Or a leader? Or a town elder, or something?"

"Oh – yea, I know that!" The man's eyes lit up, and then darkened slightly. "What do you want with him?"

Holding up her hands in a placating gesture, the girl smiled reassuringly. Or, at least, she hoped it was reassuringly. You could never really tell with locals who don't often receive visitors. "I just wanted to introduce myself." She explained. "I'm passing through on my way to Atlas, and I was hoping for a place to stay for the night, and maybe trade for some food."

The man's face radiated distrust, and his attention shifted from the girl to the other villagers, some of which had slowed or stopped in their tasks to watch. Finally, his attention flicked to the rifle strapped to the girl's back, and his face hardened further.

"We don't want no trouble." He said simply.

"I don't either." She replied, keeping her smile firmly fixed in place. "All I want is to trade, and maybe get some supplies."

The man stared at her for a long while, occasionally fixing his grip on his armful of broken planks. She tried to keep calm, friendly, and nonthreatening even as whispers began to spring up around her like a fog of the state of her attire, or the gun she carried.

Finally, hissing between his teeth, the man seemed to relent. He hefted his bundle a final time, grunting tiredly as he did do, and jerked his head up at the large building beside them. "He's in there." He said stiffly. "Go ahead and talk to him. I don't know if he'll talk to you but…" He shrugged mulishly, and with a final wary glance her way, lumbered off to do whatever it was he had been doing before the strange girl flagged him down.

One by one, the audience that had gathered slowly started to trickle away to complete their own tasks. Even some children, the girl finally noticed as she turned and finished her walk towards her directed building, peeked around walls and through doorways and windows at her. She grinned and waved at them, only to have them scramble away, hiding once again.

Feeling her smile slip slightly, the girl approached the front door of the house and knocked solidly. The door was sturdy, and the feeling of her knuckles rapping on the door echoed through her body. There was the sound of scuffling, and murmured voices, before the door finally opened, revealing a older looking woman. She looked tired, if not a little strained or ill, but relatively well-kept all the same. Her loose, dark hair was streaked with silver and her face was lined with age, but she still looked young enough to be the girl's own mother. She squinted down at the girl, her eyes moving over her dusty clothing, lingering on her gun for a few seconds too long, and then straightened, her arms crossed over her chest.

"What do you want?" Her voice was clipped and very much to the point.

The girl could respect that, and answered equally simply. "I wanted to find somewhere I could trade for supplies, and maybe get some food and rest for the night."

The woman raised her dark eyebrows skeptically. "Trade? Rest?" She shook her head. "You'll find none of that here. Please leave." She made to slam the door, but the girl slid her foot forward to hold the door open, barely even wincing as the hard wood met her booted feet.

"Maybe I could speak to the leader of your town?" She said pleasantly, her smile wide. "Or someone like that?"

The woman was not amused. "No. You can't. Now, please leave."

Not to be deterred, the girl tried another approach. "I can trade! I can also help you; I can help repair, and I can lift things." She smiled guiltily at the older woman's suddenly flat stare. "Well, yes, I'm kind of small. But I'm really strong! Trust me, I can help you."

"If we help you in return." Came the short, irritated reply.

"Well… yes." The girl commiserated, shrugging. "That's how a trade works."

"I know how trade works!" The woman snapped back, but then her face suddenly softened as another sound was heard from further inside the house. It was light, airy, and a bit weak, but it was unmistakably a series of coughs. There was someone else in the house, the girl knew, and that someone else was likely old or sick.

Keeping her smile fixed in place, and nodding reassuringly to the woman, the girl waited patiently for her stubbornness to fail. Most people in small villages and towns could be stubborn; whether it was due to the nature of their hard lives, or simply because they liked their own way doing things, they often acted out towards people they didn't know. New people brought change, for better or worse, and most simply didn't know how to accommodate drastic change.

She was used to it, and knew the best way to deal with people like this was to be as open and friendly as possible. Luckily, being open and friendly was her specialty.

Finally, the woman relented, nodding slowly and stepping away from the door. "Fine." She said. "You can come in. You say you have trade?"

Her smile returning true, the girl gratefully entered the house. "Yup! I have some money if you need it. But I also have some tools and things that I can stand to let go of. Also, I can help with the repairs going on, if you'd like."

Nodding, the woman directed her through a large room – likely the community room, from the size of it and its furnishings – towards a small stairway. "We don't have use for much money, but can always use some in case another trader happens to come by. But we always can use some tools and a skilled pair of hands. You say you can repair?"

"Uh huh! I'm mainly good at repairing machinery and weaponry, but also have a little experience at carpentry and stone working." In her line of work, it was always a good thing to have an eclectic skillset. Especially in times like this.

"What about farming?" The woman pressed, leading her up the small, slightly creaky stairway.

"I've dabbled." The girl answered hesitantly, but honestly. She minutely wondered just how much work they needed done, if they had use for a machinist, farmer, carpenter and a stone worker at the same time. "But I'm not great at it."

"That's fine. Any little bit helps."

They reached the top of the stairs, and stopped directly at a single doorway. Reaching out to open the door, the woman turned her head back and eyed the girl – or, more accurately, the rifle strapped to her shoulder.

"You'll want to take that off." She warned. "And try and be polite, he's very old."

Silently wondering if, up until now, she hadn't been polite as she thought she was, the girl nodded, unslinging her rifle and leaning it up against the wall by the door. She then slipped her large travelling pack off of her bag and dropped in beside her weapon. The woman nodded, pleased, and opened the door, ushering her inside.

The room was small. Barely a bedroom, it was clear this room was added to the top of the house after the fact, and could have been a small attic in a normal hose. As it was, from the dust and dirt on the hardwood floor and sparse furnishings – only a single short-legged table and a few assorted boxes – it certainly could have passed for an attic or storage room.

There was only one occupant in the room. Situated in a small bedroll in the very center wearing a surprisingly clean-looking set of clothes and a blanket over his lap, an old man sat reading what looked to be an old, tattered book. He looked up as the pair of woman entered, and his weathered eyes widened in surprise.

"Ah… I was wondering who the new voice belonged to." He said, his voice aged, but still strong and clear. "We don't often get visitors, so I was surprised to hear shouting that someone new was arriving."

Smiling softly, the girl approached the man and dipped her head in a bow. While most cultures of the world different slightly in gestures and taboos, a submissive bow was usually the best one to fall back on.

"Good morning, Sir." The girl said. "I was passing by on my way to Atlas, and was hoping I could trade for some supplies; food, water or any tools you don't need." The old man gestured with his hand, and nodding gratefully she settled into a comfortable sitting position. "But, now that I have seen the town and the state you're in… I think you need all the tools and supplies you can get."

The man chuckled softly. "You are honest, I see." At the girl's blush, he shrugged. "Well, I can't fault you for it. Sometimes honestly is the best way of things. One can't get very far if one isn't honest."

Swallowing, the girl leaned forward. "If I may ask… what happened here?"

Slowly, the old man's smile melted away, only to be replaced by cold, hard, anger. "Grimm." He said simply.

The girl felt her heart speed up at the name, already putting two and two together in her head as to what occurred. It was all too common. A village far from civilization; small, undefended. The Grimm; monstrous, vile and unfeeling. She had run into more incidents that she could count where a town had been ransacked by the creatures, leaving barely any survivors – if any at all. With the Grimm running rampant in the wilds in this day and age, it was only a matter of time before a village with no protection at all was swallowed up whole by the seemingly endless ocean of ripping teeth, nightmarish power and limitless hate.

For the girl, at least, she knew this fact all too well.

"The Grimm happened." The old man continued solemnly. "They came in the night, as they always do, and take what they want. We hide, for if we were to try and defend ourselves, we die. We can do nothing but hide, and hope they take what they want and leave us be." He took a heavy breath; weighed down with what the girl could imagine to be guilt and shame. Guilt at being the leader of their village, but unable to do anything. And shame, for knowing the only course of action was to hide in the face of some monsters. "It's always like this."

The girl clenched her fingers together into fists in her lap, the leather of her fingerless gloves creaking slightly. If anyone had cause to hate the Grimm, it was her, and just hearing that other people faced even similar issues with the creatures was enough to find a middle ground – a meeting point.

But, as she was about to ask how she could help with the repair efforts, the man's words finally worked their way into her head, and she blinked.

"Wait… what did you mean 'as they always do'?" She asked, leaning forward. "It's always like this?"

"Yes." The man replied, his tone turning curious. "As they always do. The Grimm come to our village and steal food, destroy our homes and crops, leaving us with nearly nothing." He looked past the girl towards the other woman, who had been lingering by the open doorway. "They come every other season, don't they Amelia?"

The woman, Amelia, nodded stiffly. "Yes. Every six months before the harvest." She affirmed, her arms crossed over her chest. "It's like they know, and plan to come when we have the most food." She scoffed, disgusted. "And they leave us with barely enough to live on until the next harvest, only to steal more then."

The girl blinked again, shocked. "But… the Grimm don't  _do_ that." She murmured. "They don't steal food."

Amelia sneered, but she could tell the look wasn't directed at her. "I can assure you, Girl, that they do. Every time the harvest comes, the Grimm come. Every time the Grimm come, they take our food and kill us if we don't hide."

The old man nodded sadly. "I'm afraid that's the way of things."

"But –" The girl blurted. "The Grimm don't even eat food! There's never been any reports of food being stolen by the Grimm before. Every invasion and destroyed town by Grimm results in the townspeople being slaughterd, and their food and materials left to rot."

The old man and Amelia exchanged a look. After a moment, the man cleared his throat. "How do you know this, young lady?"

"Because I'm a Huntress." She said simply, lifting her chin proudly.

"A Huntress?" Amelia repeated, confused. "You mean a hunter? You hunt game?"

"No, I mean a Huntress." She replied. Sitting up straight, she stuck her chest out like she was taught when pushing her occupation to others. "I hunt Grimm. I travel around to different cities with problems with Grimm, and I help them. It's lucky that I came here, if you have such a regular problem with the Grimm. I can help you.'"

Again the old man flicked his eyes behind the girl towards Amelia, who simply shrugged, her face neutral.

Clearing his throat, he watched the girl with tired eyes. "I'm afraid, while generous your offer is, we will have to decline."

Blinking, the girl stammered, "W-why? You have a terrible Grimm problem! They steal your food, and destroy your town! They even kill you! I can help!"

At that, the man shook his head. "But if we hide, they do not kill. They simply destroy our homes and take our food. But homes can be rebuild. Crops can be replanted and regrown. These things are simple. Lives, however, are not so simple. I cannot risk the lives of others simply because we have a problem that can be avoided."

"But it's my  _job_  to save people from the Grimm!" The girl stressed, her hands clenched tightly.

"It may be your job," He replied slowly. "But it is still too dangerous for a single young woman to do." At the girl's indignant look, his hands raised peacefully. "Now, if you'd like to help some other way, I'm sure we would be more than happy to have you. We have lots of homes that need fixing, and always have need of new tools for trade. We always have enough food left in storage to accommodate a few others, just in case of situations like this. So if you came for trade, we are more than happy to help."

He fixed the girl with a stern gaze, one she distinctively recognized as fatherly and protective. It made her purse her lips petulantly, glancing away towards the room's only window. "But, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to put yourself in harm's way simply because it's your job. It's too dangerous."

_It's too dangerous_.

It was always the same. Someone thinking she was going in way over her head, or underestimating the Grimm as other her age tended to do. Young, eager to prove themselves as worthy Hunters and Huntresses, and so very cocky. She had been like that once, too, but also had grown out of it much earlier than most.

The problem was, if being too dangerous had been a legitimate excuse for her during her younger teen years, her master might have not even decided to train her at all. But no, as dangerous as the Grimm were, the simple fact that a girl standing up to the Grimm being 'dangerous' was not going to cut it. There were too many of them, and too few Hunters and Huntresses in the world to stand up to them.

Danger was simply too common these days. It was part of everyday life for her.

Squaring her shoulders, the girl fixed the village elder with her most sincere gaze. "I can promise you, Sir, that I can handle anything the Grimm can throw at me. I have trained to fight them since I was a girl, and I am more than willing to help you defend yourselves from them."

Again, the man's answer was simple, succinct. "I'm afraid not. Now, if you'd like to trade for supplies, or for food or tools, I can have Amelia introduce you…"

He trailed off as a sound picked up, drifting in the room's window from outside. Loud, frantic and panicked shouting could be heard from the street, and the old man nodded to Amelia, who strode towards the window and leaned outside slightly.

"What is it?!" She called out to the people outside. "What is happening?"

The girl listened as the shouting repeated itself, and watched as the older woman's back stiffened, her fingers curling on the windowsill. Suddenly she turned around and faced the old man, her lips drawn in a thin, pale line.

"What is it, Amelia?" He asked.

"The Grimm." She replied shortly. "A small group of them have been spotted on the outskirts, among the ruins."

The girl felt her heart leap into her throat.  _The Ruins_! That was only a short distance away from the wall, which led into the heart of the town. People were in danger!

As she leapt to her feet, the old man spoke up, his voice hard and commanding. "Amelia, go and urge the people head indoors and remain there until further notice. There has never been any stragglers from the Grimm raids before, and we don't know what they will do."

Nodding, Amelia strode past them towards the door to the first floor of the house.

After the older woman had left, the girl turned to the old man. "What can I do?" She asked quickly.

"Hide." He said sternly. "I don't know if these Grimm will enter the town proper or not, but I do not want to take chances. You'll be safe in here."

Stifling her exasperated snarl, the girl flung her arms out. "You just said yourself that the Grimm never stayed around past their raids! These are rogue! They are most likely here because they sense the people! They  _will_  enter the town, and they  _will_  kill everyone!"

"Not if we hide, as we always do." Came the stubborn response. "I will not risk people lived because of an immature girl does not know what she is dealing with."

Oh. That. Did. It.

"Doesn't know what she's dealing with, huh?" She muttered, her lips curling into a grim smile. "Okay. I understand." And without waiting for a response, she turned and fled the room, snatching up her sniper rifle from the wall as she bounded down the steps three at a time.

A moment later she blew out of the front door to panic; panic and bedlam. People were running, dropping their tools and building materials in random piles on the ground as their tried to find loved ones before taking shelter. Mothers gathered their children – whom had apparently ventured outside after she had went to speak to their elder – in their arms and ushered indoors by their husbands or brothers or parents. They yelled and screamed, calling out to each other, in fear of the monsters that lurked just outside of their walls.

And Amelia was there, in the middle of the square, barking out orders for everyone to take what they could and hide in their homes.

Like that would help anything.

The girl grimaced as Amelia noticed her, and yelled for her to return inside and hide like everyone else, but paid the command little heed as she slipped her hands into her rifles grip and shouldered it in a ready position.

"Like fish in a barrel." She muttered to herself, not quite sure if shew as referring to the Grimm or the townspeople, her eyes scanning the area for the best position to defend from. Most of the houses were still damaged from the previous night, but the room of the village elder's home was in good shape, and aside from a few trees, was the tallest structure in the area.

Turning from Amelia's rapidly reddening face with a cheeky grin, the girl crouched low, the muscles in her legs and thighs coiling in preparation, and then pushed off from the dirt with a cry.

Training to be a Huntress required many different skills. Stamina was one, as was power. The Grimm were strong, much stronger than the average human. To be able to effectively combat the monsters on an equal ground, one had to train every day to improve their strength and stamina. A Hunter and Huntress had to run faster, hit harder, and jump farther.

She had always been a good jumper.

The roof was at least three meters off the ground; she cleared the distance easily and dropped to a crouch, whirling around to scan the horizon. Amelia's shouts for her to run and hide dropped off to a dull buzzing in her ear as she shouldered her rifle, holding her right eye to the scope.

The sun was high in the sky, which made observing the surrounding area easy enough. Most of the square and street was clear by now, only a few stragglers running to their homes or the closest building for shelter, and once the final door slammed shut, leaving the entire town empty save for her – Amelia had apparently given up on her and returned indoors herself – and the coming Grimm, she turned her attention to the wall in the distance.

It was even more crumbling and decrepit-looking from a distance, she thought as she focused in on it. Sure, once long ago, it may have been a serviceable wall, even one that properly kept the slower or smallest Grimm at bay. Or, knowing such a thing was despicably more common than I should have been, the odd group of bandits that liked to terrorize small villages.

But now, time and the elements had certainly taken its' toll on the stone monument, and she fixed her scope over the piles of stones, trying to pick out the ruined homes she had noticed earlier.

They were simple to find, as they were the only things even remotely standing out from the trees, and it was even easier to locate her quarry.

Black skin rippling, their muscles and inbred power clear to see. Bones, deformed from the very moment they slinked onto the soil, split from their flesh in painful-looking protrusions. Wicked, yellowed teeth gnashing at prey long-since decomposed. Long, deformed muzzles snarling at every smell that could be picked up, and dark, blood-red eyes radiating with murderous intent, the Grimm were indeed here.

_Beowolfs_ … the girl hissed to herself, the Hunters' Association's unofficial name for the beasts flitting through her mind as she recalled everything she knew about them.

Fast, agile, the size of large dire wolves, and the temperament of the nastiest animals you'd ever meet. They were natural predators and pack hunters. Taking their time with their prey, they were more than happy with wounding you and letting you go while you run, bleeding out slowly until you finally collapse, when they would finally finish you off.

While it was rare for them to hunt in groups of larger than six, they would sometimes form packs of a dozen strong if the Alpha Beowolf was old and powerful enough to command the loyalty of the others. The group milling around the ruins seemed to be only three or four, so there wasn't a large cause for concern in that regard. But nevertheless the girl gripped her sniper rifle tightly in her hands, pressing the scope tightly against her eye.

She was never one to take chances if she could help it.

A few minutes later her patience won out as a fifth Beowolf showed itself, slithering out from inside one of the ruined houses, sniffing at its brothers. One barked, another snarled, pushing past another to lower its muzzle at the ground.

The girl stiffened as she watched the Beowolf sniff at the soil, turning one way, and then another, and then lift its head to stare directly at her through her scope.

And in one, heart-pounding moment, she knew she had been found.

Cursing silently to herself as she heard an earsplitting howl rend the air, she reached into her belt and palmed a single round, flicking it up and sliding it into place in the rifle's chamber, the gun cocking with a satisfying  _click_  as she hefted it. Grinning widely, she pressed her eye to the scope again to locate her targets.

At a run now, the pack of Beowolfs had passed the ruins and just reached the wall, loping at an efficient stalking pace, their strong muscles shifting and flexing under their midnight black skin. The girl flicked her tongue out to wet her lips, and waited.

Beowolfs were quick at a distance, but once they got close they usually slowed, intending to corral their prey into a false sense of security. If she took any shots now, chances were that the natural agility of the monsters would kick in, with their impressive sense of hearing and special awareness, and possibly dodge her bullets.

Once they got closer, though…

She tightened her grip on her rifle, her finger hovering over the trigger as the creatures reached the farthest still-occupied home, still boarded-up and locked. As they passed it, they began to slow, sensing that their prey was close. The lead Beowolf snarled, flicking its head around to signal to the others in the way that only they would understand—

And then the girl struck.

The pull of the trigger, the buck of the rifle, the crack of the wind, and the whistle of the bullet as it snapped from the barrel of her gun and struck true. The animal stumbled, its eyes showing no obvious pain at the fatal wound it just received, and then, as quickly as it hit the dirt, exploded into an inky black, loamy cloud of matter.

By the time the other Beowolf were even able to slow to a stop, their muzzles swiveling around to locate their fallen leader, the girl had already slammed the next round into the chamber and taken aim.

Another crack and the jerk of the weapon's recoil, and another monster fell.

A third moment passed and another Beowolf shattered to smoke before the final two realized what was happening. Reacting quickly, the two split up and ran behind houses, disappearing from view.

Clicking her tongue in irritation, the girl shifted her position to better watch for her attackers as they surrounded her. She flicked her eyes from house to house, muscles coiled and nerves steady, ready for any kind of hint that gave the beasts away. A shadow sprang from one house and dove behind another, and it took all her reflexes to keep herself from blindly firing at the next flash of black skin and white bone.

Soon she felt it more than heard it, the lumbering and familiar sensation of being approached, and she was barely able to whirl around and push herself away from the rood towards the square, narrowing avoiding the Beowolf that had avoided detection and leapt onto the roof, its teeth grazing the barest inch of her sleeve as she darted away.

She hit the ground at a roll, the wind knocking out of her but still able to kick herself back up, and as quickly as she could swung her rifle around to aim back at the roof and take her shot—

But the monster was gone. As quickly as it had come to attack, it had retreated, its job in flushing out their prey done.

Cursing silently to herself, the girl dropped to one knee and swiveled around, checking the buildings and the most likely chokepoints her pursuers could come at her from. In the middle of the town square, there was only six of seven homes and single story buildings surrounding here, making for an equal number of ways to attack from. But, surrounded as she likely was, she couldn't possible cover each and every one, not with another directly behind her.

Luckily, she was not without her own tricks.

Standing, she lowered her rifle and eyed the homes, her focus flicking from each building in succession, waiting for the next attack.

When it did come, it came fast.

Both Beowolfs came from behind the same building, snarling and howling as she shot out at the girl. She whirled around to meet them, her rifle held tightly in her hands and she lifted it. She took aim, but instead of pressing the trigger and slamming a round into the approaching creature, she flicked another trigged along the grip of the weapon.

At once the weapon responded; machinery whirred, servos clicked and slid into place, and the gun elongated as though a pole had been slipped into the stock of the rifle. The chamber and barrel clicked and spun, sliding out of place and reorganized itself into a curved, sharpened design running perpendicular to the shaft. The blade, its black-steeled metal shining in the bright mid-day sun,

What was once a high-power sniper rifle was now a long hafted, heavy, battle scythe.

Grinning widely, the girl hefted her once-rifle and spun it around with practiced ease, catching the closest Beowulf in the neck in mid-jump. The blade cleaved easily through the tough, muscled skin of the monster, and she spun on her heel to the side to let it pass, watching as it collapsed on the dirt and dissolved to the black mass it came from, sinking harmlessly into the dirt.

A pained howl snapped her attention to the final Beowolf circling her, and she lifted her scythe in warning towards it.

"You sure you want to do this?" She asked aloud. No one ever really knew if the Grimm could understand people, but for some reason, she always felt the need to talk to them when the opportunity presented itself. "I killed all your little brothers and sisters. What's one more, really?"

The Beowolf snarled at her, its lips curling up to show its sharp, jagged teeth. She narrowed her eyes at the display of aggression, and pulled her own lips back in a taunting grin of her own.

"Well, alrighty. Don't say I didn't give you a chance."

The creature charges, as did the girl. The two ran at each other, and the Beowolf lunged, its claws outstretched for the kill.

"Gotcha!" The girl cried out, at the last second ducking and sliding on the loose dirt underfoot. She rolled underneath the Beowulf, slashing out at the last moment with her weapon. The scythe slid easily through the air, but caught the monster in its boney flank, lodging the blade in between hardened bone and scarred flesh. For the barest moment it seemed as though the thing would take the weapon straight from her hands, and leave her defenseless.

"No you don't!" She hissed, shifting her grip with practiced ease and slamming down the trigger of her rifle. The chamber and barrel mechanism of her rifle, even though reformed into the shape of a scythe, was still mechanically there, and barked out as the last round she had chambered kicked the weapon from behind, its recoil pushing the blade forward with all the strength of a high-powered sniper rifle.

Bone shattered, muscle split, and the sharpened blade bit flesh as her scythe finished its job and spun in her hands, slicing the rest of the way through the monster's hide.

With a final pained shriek, the Beowolf dissolved into the dirt, leaving nothing but slightly darkened soil and the victorious Huntress in its wake.

Slowly but surely, people started to trickle out of their homes, wide eyed and fearful. They eyed the darkened ground with apprehension, but at the girl's reassuring grin and the promise that they had nothing to fear, more started to file into the square, muttering and whispering amongst themselves.

Eventually, Amelia herself made her way from the Elder's house and approached, her face set in hard lines. She stopped barely a meter away, and the girl could almost pick up a murmured 'reckless', and 'of all the irresponsible things' and 'when I was your age…'

Well, it was nice to know that people cared about her well-being. Even strangers.

But, best be clear about things.

Stiffening her back and raising her chin, the girl cracked a grin. "What was that about not needing any help?"

Not the most eloquent thing she could come up with. But her point had been made.

Her lip curling, Amelia nodded. "Yes. It seems we underestimated you. The Grimm today took us by surprise, as we never had a problem with them so soon after their Harvest Raid. Thank you for getting rid of them for us."

"Of course!" She chirped happily. "Like I said, it's my job!"

"Yes… so you said." The older woman muttered, her hand raising to her face and rubbing at it. "But that doesn't mean you can possibly help us."

"Let me try." The girl urged, hefting her scythe over her shoulders for emphasis. "I am sure I can help you."

Amelia stared long and hard at the girl, her eyes flicking from the girl, to the townspeople surrounding them, and then finally up towards the Elder's house. The girl followed the older woman's gaze and saw the old man himself, watching from his window on the second floor. She grinned and waved at him happily. He gave the barest nod towards her, and then again to Amelia.

The woman sighed heavily. "No one has ever tried to help us before. They always just left and never came back."

"I won't do that." She promised, her smile never wavering.

"Why?"

Shrugging. "My master taught me that the most important thing to a Hunter and Huntress isn't strength, or speed or a weapon," She hefted her scythe again. "But the ability to care about others and help them whoever you can. You have to love everyone, because in the end, it's us against…" The gestured down to the dirt with her free hand. "Them."

"Love." Amelia repeated flatly.

Shrugging, the grin giggled. "That's what he said."

Sighing again, the woman turned to watch the looked from her fellow villagers; ranging from hesitance, to outright awe at the girl before them. Eventually, she turned back to the girl.

"You cannot stop the Grimm by yourself. There are many, many more than the handful there just was. And many different types."

"Then I'll get more Hunters." The girl kept grinning, her heart pounding in her hears. "I'll get as many as it takes, to prove to you that you don't have to run and hide from them. That there  _are_  ways to beat them."

The skin around Amelia's eyes tightened and her lips thinned in a way that reminded the girl of her old schoolteachers back in her teen years, and would have laughed at the idea if it wouldn't have meant possibly ruining the only smidgen of rapport she had built with the stern woman.

"What's your name?" Amelia finally asked, her tone finally softening for the first time since she had arrived into town.

Her smile stretching widely across her face, the girl stood proud, fingering her beloved scythe, and said, "My name is Ruby Rose. I am a Huntress, and I promise to help you with your little Grimm problem."

0 – 0 – 0

**End of Pilot**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Continue? No? I hope you enjoyed it for what it was, at least. Something to get the writing juices pumping.
> 
> Cheers!


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